She glared. “What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “I’m just surprised to see you here. Weren’t you the one who always bragged about having more ambition than the rest of the town put together?”
Jillian scanned the sidewalk, no doubt ensuring he hadn’t insulted any potential voters, then ran a critical eye over his travel-rumpled Hawaiian shirt and baggy shorts. “Enough small talk. Why are you here, J.T.?”
“My parole officer finally let me leave the country.”
“Don’t be cute. How long are you staying?”
He considered telling her that it was none of her business, but reminded himself that some things weren’t worth the fight.
“Just for the summer.”
“You’re sure you’re not here to stay?”
“What, move back? Hell, no!”
She narrowed the big blue eyes that she used to bat so effectively back in high school. “You don’t have to be that emphatic. This can be a pretty good place, you know.” She paused, then added with lethal softness, “That is, when you’re not here stirring up trouble.”
So that was how it was going to be. He hadn’t been imagining that bull’s-eye on his back. It was as real as the fact that in the eyes of this town, he would never be anything other than the juvenile delinquent who burned down the prime tourist attraction all those years ago.
Okay. They had every right to hate what he’d been. He’d caused a lot of hurt to a lot of folks, and if some of them couldn’t forget that, well, neither could he. Half the reason he lived in the desert now was because nothing there—not a tree, not a river, not even a flower in the grass—was the same as the ones found in this lush green village. No reminders. Knowing what he’d done still hurt that much.
But he also knew that there was a hell of a lot more to the story than most folks wanted to hear.
“What trouble? I’ve been back a couple of hours, done nothing more than walk down the damned street and you’re already judging me?”
“Some things never change,” Jillian said. “Some people never change. There’s a reason we called you J.T. You were Just Trouble back then, and from the looks of you, I’d say you’re still Just Trouble.”
Further proof that change was the one force designed to generate the most opposition from the greatest number of people.
“You know, Jillian, it’s been a long time. I screwed up. I admit it. But that was a frickin’ lifetime ago. We’re adults now. How about we make the summer a lot more pleasant for both of us and call a truce?”
She took a step back as if in disbelief, then fixed him with the same glare that he had required years of effort to forget. “Here are the rules. Lie low this summer. Do nothing to destroy my town. And be gone by Labour Day.”
Something about this wasn’t sitting right. Hell, nobody had given him a warm-and-fuzzy homecoming, but Jillian’s reaction seemed extreme. There was only one reason he could think of for her to be this defensive. Luckily for her, it was a memory he was more than happy to leave buried.
Jillian squared her shoulders, checked the time on the clock outside Town Hall and shifted her briefcase to her other hand. “I have to go,” she said. “But I’m warning you, J.T. Don’t mess with my town.”
He faked a salute. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
“You haven’t changed at all, have you?”
Before he could come up with an answer, she walked a wide circle around him and vanished from his sight. He let his grin slip as the sound of her heels faded away.
He didn’t want to upset Jillian. Not really. For one thing, he had enough bad Comeback Cove karma already. For another, it probably wasn’t smart to annoy the mayor when he was trying to sell off a bunch of properties, many of them needing planning-board approval.
On the other hand, if he were going to walk around with a target on his back, he might as well have some fun with it.
* * *
LYDDIE BREWSTER SCURRIED into the Brewster Memorial conference room in Town Hall and slid into one of the last empty chairs gathered around the polished maple table.
“Thank God this is the last time this committee has to meet,” Lyddie said to the older woman on her right. Beneath the table, she eased her shoes off and wiggled her toes. Some days were harder on the feet than others. “Please tell me I’m late enough that the meeting is over and I can go home.”
“Sorry, kid. Her Worship hasn’t made an appearance yet.” Nadine Krupnick was not only Lyddie’s assistant at her coffee shop, River Joe’s, she was also both friend and secret keeper to half the town. More important, she was the only one who could get away with calling Mayor Jillian McFarlane “Your Worship” to her face. “What made you late, anyway?”
“Sara called. She wanted to tell me every detail of her day.”
“I thought she wasn’t speaking to you.”
“I’m her favorite mom again since I said she could go to my sister’s for the summer.” Lyddie raised a hand in anticipation of Nadine’s protest. “I know, I know. She’s only fourteen, Vancouver is too far away, yada yada yada. But there’s not much for someone her age to do here all summer, and Zoë can use the help. It’ll be good for Sara to take on some responsibility.”
“No need to sound so defensive. I think it’s a great idea.”
“You do?” Lyddie reached into the paper bag Nadine pushed toward her and pulled out one of the muffins left from that day’s baking. Lemon poppy—her favorite. She peeled back the paper before helping herself to a healthy bite. Tart lemon and crunchy seeds combined to give her the most sensual treat she’d known in ages. “Everyone else thinks I’m crazy.”
“Let me guess. By ‘everyone,’ you mean your mother-in-law.”
Lyddie stayed silent, not ready to let Nadine know she’d hit the nail on the head. Nor did she want to get into a discussion of why Ruth Brewster was afraid to let any of her family slip beyond the town line. Lyddie understood her mother-in-law’s sentiments. She couldn’t deny that there were times late at night when she, too, feared that Sara would never want to return to a quiet little tourist town after two months in Vancouver.
But in the light of day, things seemed far more optimistic. This was home now, and had been for four years. Sara was old enough to remember their old life, but still, this was her reality. Of course she would come home.
“Speaking of getting away, I booked my own flight last night.” Nadine must have understood that Lyddie was ready to talk about something other than family. “As soon as Labour Day is over, I’m out of here. Las Vegas, here I come.”
“Planning to hit the jackpot and run away with an Elvis impersonator?”
“Hell, no. I’m holding out for a magician. I figure if they can saw a woman in half, maybe I’ll find one who can slice off some wrinkles, shave off a few years then put me back together so I look like I’m thirty-two again.”
Lyddie laughed. “Throw in a breast lift and I’m next in line.”
“Like you need it. Wait until you hit your sixties and it takes a crane to get the girls off the floor.”
Good thing there was a water pitcher on the table. Lyddie needed a drink, fast, after Nadine’s comments left her choking on a poppy seed. When she had finished coughing and Nadine had delivered a final blow to her back, Lyddie shook her head.
“You might have twenty years on me according to the calendar, Nadine, but you still have the mouth of a teenager.”